


If You Like

by CollarsAndCurses



Series: The Skye-rim Chronicles [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Polyamory, Post-Dawnguard, Rescue, Trans Male Character, Vampires, werewolf/vampire hybrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 23:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14365938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollarsAndCurses/pseuds/CollarsAndCurses
Summary: Ronthil thought he was worthless, until the Dragonborn took him home like a stray puppy and pampered him like a pedigree.He's still not sure what to make of all the attention - not to mention Skye's other lovers, who seem completely unfazed by his arrival - but making his new master happy is a good thing, right?





	If You Like

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into Skyrim with my Dragonborn, Skye. He gets smitten easily and likes to collect his friends and lovers at his estate (inspired by the dragonfall castle mod on nexus).

When the Dawnguard attacked the castle, it wasn't a fight but a slaughter. They had the element of surprise, superior weaponry and a fight in their hearts that was reserved for the living. They had Serana and the Dragonborn and all the knowledge they'd given them, both knowing the weaknesses of their people inside and out. The vampires of the castle fought back, creatures of the night at their sides, but even combined they couldn't stand up to the Dawnguard. Meanwhile, the ‘great’ Lord Harkon locked himself away in the chapel, waiting for his daughter and her new companion to face him, not caring who died in the process.

And then there was Ronthil, terrified and alone and cowering in the basement praying that the hunters wouldn't find him. He'd talked to the Dragonborn a few times, when he and Serana would sneak into the castle, wandering around the old parts that nobody went to. When they made a noise, Ronthil was sent to deal with it. But they never hurt him. In fact, the Dragonborn was nicer than anyone had ever been to him and maybe Ronthil had started to enjoy their talks more than he should have, but if he sided with the hunters then he couldn't be trusted, right? And if Serana was with them, against her own kind, then could she be either? Lord Harkon wasn't exactly the most amicable, but to ransack the only real home some of them had known, to kill without discretion, just to get to him?

So many unanswered questions, each one sending an icy spike of fear through him whenever it circled to the front of his mind. He was going to die here. He was going to die a useless coward who never amounted to anything and sold his soul to a megalomaniac, then got pushed around as a vampire just as much as he did before.

The ping of a crossbow made him flinch. He reached for his dagger, the one momento from his mortal life, and held it tight as he forced himself to stand. He waited, back pressed to the wall, until the sound of footsteps got closer. A door opened and he counted the steps, then gathered all of his courage and leapt out to face the intruder.

Unfortunately, he'd spent too long dithering and ended up jumping more  _ onto _ them, than in front of them. But they were quick. Soon he had a pair of arms around him and was face to face with the red, glowing eyes of a vampiric dunmer. The Dragonborn. Ronthil wanted to struggle, knew he should, but the Dragonborn was a vampire Lord, outranking him from the moment Serana had turned him. The Dragonborn held him still with an iron grip and Ronthil awaited his demise, eyes squeezed shut. But nothing happened. 

Well, nothing  _ bad _ . What did actually happen, although it took a few moments afterwards for Ronthil to register it, is that the Dragonborn - Skye, he remembered - let out a sigh of “oh thank the Gods” and held Ronthil tightly in a sort of hug, before abruptly letting go and taking a step back. Skye cleared his throat, looking considerably awkward and… embarrassed? Or was that just adrenaline from the fight giving him a dark flush to his cheeks?

“Sorry, caught me off guard,” he said, giving Ronthil a lopsided smile. “I wasn't expecting to find you alive- well, you know what I mean.”

Ronthil frowned, yet more questions that he couldn't voice popping into his head.  _ Why didn't you kill me? Why are we talking? Were you looking for me? _

“It's… pretty bad up there,” Skye told him, looking back at the stairs. “You should stay here. I'll come back for you. Wait, no, just-”

He glanced around, frantic and nervous, then pulled a key from his pocket and held it out to Ronthil. The bemused Bosmer took it, leaving Skye’s hands free to grab his shoulders as he looked Ronthil straight in the eyes.

“The fireplace, in the room by the courtyard - there's a latch, with a  keyhole, use this and wait for me in the underground passages,” he said - no,  _ ordered _ . “I'll come get you when Harkon is dead, I promise.”

And with that, he was gone, up the stairs in a swish of his cloak and leaving Ronthil alone again with nothing but a key. He knew he should question it, chase after the Dragonborn and fight him with the rest of the castle. But the fact that he'd given him a way to escape, maybe even  _ looked _ for him in all the chaos…

The old parts of the castle were as familiar as ever. Ronthil found where Skye had told him to go and waited, reading any undamaged books to distract him from the screams of battle filling the castle. The hunters had attacked during the day, knowing that many of the vampires would be sleeping. Harkon predicted that, of course. They hadn't slept in days. Ronthil tried to stay awake, he really did, but eventually his will gave in and he somehow dozed off, surrounded by the familiar comfort of bookshelves.

He had no idea what time it was when a hand on his shoulder had him sit bolt upright, chest tight with panic. Then he saw those eyes again below furrowed brows, so bright in the darkness, pupils wide from his fight.

“Are you alright?” Skye asked, hand still on Ronthil’s shoulder.

The Bosmer nodded. Then he noticed the  _ state _ the Dragonborn was in. Blood splattered his clothes, barely any of it human or mer by the smell. A deep gash across his arm added to the stains of red, with a smaller one on his cheek painting his blue-grey skin to match. He looked exhausted. But he still managed a smile at Ronthil’s answer.

“Good,” he sighed. “I'm sorry I didn't explain before - Vampire Lord to slay and all that - but I wanted to give you a way to be safe.” He sat back and ran a hand through his hair, knotted and messy, the strands leaving more red marks as they were pushed off his face. “I'm so glad you took my advice.”

“You wanted me to live?” Ronthil finally managed to ask. He didn't want to imply care or worry - perhaps he was just finally useful for something.

Skye frowned again. “Of course I did.” Then he stood up, offering a hand down to the Bosmer. “Come on, you're not staying here anymore.”

There was a command in his voice, but it wasn't the same as the others who ordered him around, treated him like dirt, called him a worm. It let him find another question before he took Skye’s hand.

“I… I'm not?”

“Not if you don't want to.”

And that was that, really. All Ronthil needed was confirmation that Skye was at least a little thoughtful of his needs and wants. He would have followed him if ordered, but taking his hand and being pulled up into another embrace was much better.

“Hold tight,” Skye murmured, their faces just an inch or two apart.

He waited until Ronthil had fumbled his arms around the other elf’s neck, then there was a flash of magic, floating, falling, another bright spark that crackled. Everything settled and no longer were they in the depths of castle volkihar. By the looks of things, however, they were in another grand abode. High ceilings of an entrance hall stretched far above them, the walls decorated with shields and banners bearing a dragon, soft rugs in the floors. And so bright, so welcoming, it was like a dream.

“Welcome home,” Skye muttered, still holding Ronthil as tightly as the Bosmer gripped his shoulders. Well, maybe not  _ quite _ as tight. But the soft words soon made him loosen his grip.

The giant orc striding up to them also gave him the sense to move, thankful that he did when Skye was swept into a bone crushing hug. Ronthil couldn't tell if the orc was smiling or snarling until he spoke. Those tusks - was that the right word? - always made them look angry.

“Pleased to see you back in one piece, love.” His voice was a deep rumble, but he placed such a gentle kiss to Skye’s lips. Definitely a smile.

“I missed you, too,” Skye chuckled, nuzzling the huge man’s jaw.

He pressed his forehead to the orc’s cheek for a moment and sighed, before he was set down like a precious doll only to receive another onslaught of attention.

“Welcome back, my love.” A human this time, imperial by the looks of things and almost certainly a mage.

He gave Skye a considerably longer kiss, until the orc cleared his throat and they broke apart with smiles and pink cheeks.

“Let's patch up that pretty face of yours, hm?” The mage said, placing a hand on Skye’s cheek and healing the wound there with the warm glow of a restoration spell.

He did the same to Skye’s arm, then gave him another kiss. Evidently not gifted with magic, the orc offered him a potion with his kiss, one that made Skye look considerably better after he'd downed it in one. Ronthil would have to learn how to make that, he wanted his new master to always be healthy and happy. Then all three of their gazes fell to him and he suddenly felt very, very small and not deserving of knowing what was in that potion.

“This is the one I told you about,” Skye explained, quickly hooking an arm around the other elf to bring him back against his side. “He's going to be staying here,” he paused and turned to Ronthil. “As long as he wants.”

_ Forever _ , he thought. Oh, he could only hope.

“I-I will do my best to serve you,” he said quietly, giving a polite bow of his head.

Though when the orc gave a booming laugh and the other two chuckled, he regretted saying anything at all.

“Only the cook and the barkeep serve around here,” the orc told him. “Names Ghorbash, but call me what you like.” he shrugged, but gave Ronthil a nod back and… possibly a smile? He'd have to learn about orcish facial expressions.

“Marcurio Pavus,” the human said, performing a flamboyant little bow. “Master spellcaster and apprentice wizard extraordinaire.”

Ronthil wondered how you could be both an apprentice  _ and _ a master, but kept those thoughts to himself, giving them both a nervous smile for as long as his courage would allow. Which is to say, not very long at all.

“Would you like a tour of the castle?” Skye asked, squeezing Ronthil’s waist. “You can meet the rest of my companions as well, if you'd like.”

There it was again,  _ would you like _ ,  _ if you'd like _ . Nobody had ever been so considerate of what Ronthil wanted before. It was a little overwhelming.

“Yes,” he said, adding a quiet “please.”

The castle was, dare he say, even more impressive than Harkon’s. It was definitely larger, with every room you could possibly imagine and then some. Skye showed him the kitchen, the library, the enchanting and alchemy room, the blacksmith’s workshop, the armoury - which was phenomenal in and of itself, without the seemingly endless artefacts, weapons and armour that Skye had personally collected - and the baths, noting that Ronthil could have free reign to explore the rest. 

There was something playful as Skye led him around, introducing him to the staff and his other companions - friends or lovers, Ronthil couldn't tell - like a child eager to show off their new toy, or a collector, happy with their latest purchase. Ronthil didn't mind if he was either of those things to the Dragonborn, he was just happy to be wanted. He was the only wood elf living in the castle, but Skye assured him that everyone he'd met truly was lovely, and if they weren't then he was to tell Skye straight away so they could receive a ‘good talking to.’

“Now, let me show you to your room,” Skye said as they reached the dining hall again.

His own room? Ronthil could hardly believe it. The balcony above the baths was lined with bedrooms, each personalised to their inhabitants and with actual locks and little signs on the doors. A few weeks ago, he would have done anything for just something to use as a blanket, or some dusty old box as a coffin, and now here he was getting a whole  _ room _ .

“This one is yours,” Skye told him as they reached the first unused bedroom. “Buuuut,” he drew the world out as he circled his arms around Ronthil’s waist from behind. The Bosmer’s hair stood on end, his body going rigid as another one was pressed to his back. “I do have a different arrangement I'd like to suggest,” he murmured into Ronthil’s ear, squeezing him tighter when he shivered.

He'd never imagined that someone would want him in that way, so much so that he still didn't believe it as Skye led him to what was evidently the master suite of the castle. The bed was large enough to fit three, maybe four, and covered in the most decadent furs and fabrics.

“There's extra beds down there.” Skye nodded to a lower level with two rooms, just down the stairs from his own. “But if you ever get cold, or lonely, there's always room under my covers.”

There was nothing forceful about the way Skye’s hands settled on his thin hips, the Dragonborn moving to lean against him again instead of pulling Ronthil back.

“You can always say no,” he reminded him. “I won't force you. Nobody will.”

Even though Skye was giving him the option to walk away, the dunmer evidently wanted him to stay; nuzzling at the back of Ronthil’s hair and gently kneading his waist. It even sounded as if he was purring, like Khajiit are rumoured to during intimate moments.

Ronthil cleared his throat. “That… sounds nice.” It wasn't just nice, It was far, far more than just nice, but Skye was taking up most of his attention so he couldn't think of anything more descriptive.

The Dragonborn’s chest lifted behind him, as if he'd been holding his breath. “It does, does it?” He could feel Skye smiling around the words as his mouth touched the back of Ronthil’s neck.

“Yes,” he sighed, a shiver running up his spine to meet the Dragonborn’s warm lips.

“Why don't I give you a little…  _ taster, _ hm?”

It was easy to see how the Dragonborn had several lovers; he was kind, attractive, so very seductive even without using any of his vampiric powers of persuasion.

“Yes,” Ronthil repeated, leaning back against Skye’s chest. “Please.” Gods preserve him, or Daedric lords, he wasn't picky, just whoever could keep this wonderful dream alive and stop him from ruining anything.

They were almost the same height, but Skye picked the other elf up with ease and swept him off to bed, bending down to place him on the mattress after what seemed like a blink. He was so fast, so strong, and Ronthil realised then that he'd never felt safer, even when the Vampire Lord flopped down next to him and pulled him into his lap.

“There,” Skye purred, giving Ronthil’s thigh an affectionate pat. “Now you can get up whenever you want to.”

This care and consideration was going to be the death of him. What had he done to earn such kindness?

“I won't,” he blurted, startling himself and quickly clamping his mouth shut.

But Skye was having none of that. He took Ronthil’s slender chin in his hand, coaxing him to lean down onto his elbows, closer, so that he couldn't look anywhere except at his master.

“You won't what?”

“L-leave,” he admitted in a whisper. “I won't… I don't want to leave.”

Skye’s lips curved into a smile that Ronthil never wanted to see leave his face. He cupped the lesser vampire’s jaw with with both hands, thumbs skating gently over the high cheekbones dusted with pink, before he closed the last bit of distance between them to press their lips together. Their lips were rough, from battle and the worrying of their fangs, but they soon softened as Skye’s tongue darted out to wet them, barely letting their mouths part as he did so.

It had been… a fair while since Ronthil had kissed anyone, but he was sure that Skye was the very best at it. Nobody else had made him relax like the Dragonborn could, made him submit just with affection. He wanted Skye to make him his, to claim him and use him, he wanted to serve and please. He tried copying what Skye had done, letting his tongue slip between them for just a second. He probably wasn't doing it right, it didn't feel the same, but Skye seemed pleased with him regardless, snaking a hand up to tangle in Ronthil’s rust coloured curls, keep him close. The other touch that had been on his face dropped to the small of his back, pushing lightly until Ronthil let some of his weight rest again Skye’s chest.

“Relax,” Skye whispered, dragging his hand up Ronthil’s back until his elbows gave out and he was laying fully on the other vampire. “I want to please you.” He sighed through his nose, the warm air feeling almost cold against Ronthil’s kiss-reddened lips.

The wood elf’s poor heart hammered in his chest, surely too fast for a member of the undead, but Skye  _ did things _ to him, made him feel alive. Then he realised it wasn't just his own heartbeat he could feel; Skye’s was pounding back, through his own body and into Ronthil’s, as if replying. Oh goodness, did he really just think that? Something so…  _ romantic _ ? It made his cheeks burn with a flush, but Skye had pulled him back into a kiss by then, so Ronthil hoped he wouldn't see.

His master’s tongue was more eager this time, poking at his lips until he parted them and then snaking inside. He growled when their tongues met, drawing out a moan that Ronthil had been trying to hide. Skye just growled again and held him tighter, working into a rhythm with that expert tongue of his. In fact, any noises the Bosmer let slip seemed to spur him on, pleased sounds of his own assuring Ronthil that he was enjoying this just as much.

Skye’s fangs scraped his lips when they parted and he suddenly longed to feel them in other places, places that made him blush the same shade of red that was barely visible around Skye’s wide pupils. He looked like a cat ready to pounce. It was hypnotic.

“You, are wonderful,” Skye panted, stroking his slender fingers through Ronthil’s hair. “Please, tell me you'll stay, I want to wake up like this tomorrow, I want to keep you safe, always.”

Being kept safe sounded perfect.

“Always,” the Bosmer agreed quietly. “I- I'll stay by your side. Always.”

Skye made a strange sort of chittering sound at that. Ronthil guessed it was a happy noise, because just moments later Skye was kissing him again, rolling them over so that Ronthil’s back was against the bed and Skye straddled his hips. There was nothing aggressive in it, though. If anything, Skye seemed almost nervous when he sat back.

“I'm going to take off my armour,” he said, cheeks flushed pink and gaze set on the fastenings of a gauntlet. “You can too, if it would make you more comfortable.” He glanced up for a moment and smiled, then set to work on his chestpiece.

Ronthil stared for a moment, then his senses returned and he nodded, mumbling, “Yes, of course,” as he sat up to struggle out of his own armour. He wasn't wearing much, just a tunic with a bit of padding - vampires didn't need much protection - but seeing Skye and his companions dressed for battle made him want to join them. He wondered if Skye would help him forge some armour, or let him earn the coin to buy some.

He barely looked at the other vampire until they were both down to their undershirts and breeches. Blood had soaked through to the white linen around the hole over Skye’s healed arm, but his shirt was otherwise clean and fit to his figure perfectly. It had probably been made for him, by his own hand or a well-paid tailor’s. In spite of the quality of his clothing, he looked awfully small without the extra layers, and so very tired with the bags still under his eyes.

“I, um-” Skye paused, biting his lip. Without saying another word, he reached under his shirt and unfastened something at the back. He took a deep breath as he pulled out a strip of fabric and buckles, face showing a mix of relief and nerves. “Doesn't make it easy to breathe,” he said, voice suddenly quiet and with a forced laugh at the end. “You can leave now, if you want, or sleep here and I'll go. I know you must be exhausted.”

He smiled, but by the gods, Ronthil didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look so sad at their own words. It even took him a moment to realise what Skye was telling him - to notice the subtle curves as his shirt fell across his chest - and when he did, he decided he  _ never _ wanted to leave. He knew what it was like to feel insecure about your own body, to feel as if nobody would want you. Even with the lovers he already had, Skye still doubted it. Ronthil knew then that he would tell him he was perfect, inside and out, every day until he believed it.

Evidently, he took too long trying to voice those opinions, as Skye sighed and began to stand up.

“No!” Ronthil had grabbed Skye’s arm before he could stop himself, but abruptly let go to let his mouth do the persuading. “No, I mean, I'm not going to leave, and you don't have to, it's fine- better than fine- no, not better, just-” his face was burning as he stuttered and went back on his words, eventually just ending on, “Nothing you could show me, or- or tell me, would make me want to leave.”

Skye’s whole face lifted, even his eyes seeming to shine brighter as he smiled. He crawled back up the bed and hugged Ronthil tight to his own body, his ears fluttering against the other elf’s cheek and that purring vibrating his chest again. Ronthil wondered if all elves could do that, or just dunmer, or even just Skye. He hoped to return the sound one day, if he could. But for now, he enjoyed making Skye happy enough to hear it.

“Thank you,” Skye sighed. “I'd thought you might be accepting of me, from the times we talked and when you brought blood potions to me, but I just- I never know.”

Ronthil didn't say anything, but placed a shy kiss to Skye’s lips, earning himself one of those deep, flirtatious chuckles and another kiss in return.

“I was going to suggest that we have a bath later,” Skye mumbled, sniffing at his own shoulder. “I can't decide if I smell like wet dog or a used coffin.”

_ A _ bath? As in together? Oh goodness. Ronthil just nodded, hiding his face in the pillow as it burned with a blush at the thought of seeing Skye - or, well,  _ anyone _ \- naked. Then a question interrupted his embarrassed fantasies.

“Wet dog?” He asked.

"Oh, right." Skye smiled against his neck, letting his fangs drag over Ronthil’s pale skin. “I'm a werewolf, too,” he whispered in his ear. “Dragon blood can do  _ amazing _ things.”

Ronthil swallowed thickly and shivered. A werewolf. And a vampire Lord. Right. Well, that was new. He could smell it, now there was a name for the scent - the light musk of a wild hunter, giving Skye a more living essence than he should have.

“That's incredible,” Ronthil told him. “When…?”

“Did it happen?” Skye finished. “About a month ago. I took a break from Dawnguard business to help the companions. This was my reward.”

He growled under his breath and Ronthil could hear it now, too, like a wolf revelling in the scent of its prey. And for once, he was quite happy to be that prey.

“Scared?” Skye asked, mouth still so close to the most vulnerable part of the other vampire’s neck.

“No,” Ronthil replied truthfully, even though he couldn't stop another shudder.

Skye chuckled, then sighed and let his head rest back on the pillow. “Good. I don't want you to be scared.”

He yawned, Ronthil yawned, and they both closed their eyes, not needing words to say “we're both exhausted, we can talk more later.”

‘Later’ would come when Ghorbash and Marcurio brought them tea and biscuits, as if having another man in their bed with Skye was a cause for pampering. Perhaps it was, they both seemed happy with their partner’s new companion. Ronthil willed himself to settle in, to relax so that he could be the best possible… whatever Skye wanted him to be. Servant. Friend. Lover. Partner? He could only hope, but having hope was a luxury he could now afford.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Likes and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Skye's hybrid nature is inspired by the Tainted Blood mod on Nexus - I definitely recommend that as well as dragonfall castle!


End file.
